


Waffle House Smackdown

by neonpinkdragon



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gay Billy Hargrove, Judas Priest shirt used as a metaphor for being gay and available, M/M, Steve and Nancy's failing relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:57:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24304726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonpinkdragon/pseuds/neonpinkdragon
Summary: Steve doesn't feel responsible for what happens next. One minute he's staring at the fuckingegg dickincredulously, and the next, his eyes snap up to the little window in front of the kitchen and lock with the smuggest mullet haired bitch he's ever seen his life.It's like the rest of the world disappears, everything goes eerily silent, and he's out of his body, watching himself get up against Nancy's muffled protests, hard-boiled egg in hand. He watches the egg fly from his hand, as if in slow motion, across the whole diner, over the other customer's shocked looks, and hit the guy square in the forehead. And then the mullet bitch isn't laughing anymore. In fact, he's angrily untying his apron and opening the kitchen door."Oh, shit," is all Steve can say.-This is 100% based on that Reddit post about the boyfriend who could not stop fighting the Waffle House cook, and I sincerely hope this is the next fandom trope to take off.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler
Comments: 61
Kudos: 286





	Waffle House Smackdown

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! 
> 
> Listen, I don't know how I went from reading a reddit post, thinking "haha, Steve and Billy would do that", to writing this 10k monstrosity, but here we are. This is where I live now.
> 
> As usual, all my thanks to [ @elegantwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantwings/pseuds/elegantwings) without whom I'd be absolutely lost. 
> 
> Julian also informed me there are no Waffle Houses in NY, but by that point I was attached to the fic's title so, to any offended new yorkers, my apologies.
> 
> Btw If you don't know what post I'm talking about, [here you go.](https://twitter.com/JakeMHS/status/1260025788759326720)

Steve loves breakfast food. If he could exist solely on waffles, bacon and eggs, he would. It's the comfort of it, really, the uncomplicated kind of peace that comes along with the familiar smells of coffee and something nice and filling waiting for him. 

Sure, maybe it's deeply connected to his childhood trauma and history of parental neglect, whatever. Maybe he always tears up listening to Dolly Parton because it reminds him of his mom and their drives to the local diner at Hawkins once a week, Old Flames Can't Hold a Candle to You playing in the background of their deep-seated issues. They had mother and son bonding breakfast talking about nothing at all and never discussed how they wanted more from each other, you know, like normal people. 

He has gone to enough therapists to know how simple a cliche he really is, and, most days, even when all he has to say for himself is that he's feeling like the biggest piece of shit on earth, he is self-aware enough to admit to his faults. And maybe that's good enough, he doesn't need his life to be perfect. Maybe perfection means accepting what’s in front of him, sitting at a random Waffle House in Hell’s Kitchen, eating his damn bacon and eggs in the insulated silence of Nancy pretending to read her book, the line of her mouth getting thinner and thinner every time he tries to make conversation.

 _This_ Steve can deal with, it's nothing new. In fact, he'd go as far as to say it's what he excels at. It's all the other things that come with adult life that are too difficult for him to grasp.

Steve has always felt a little bit stuck, like he's meant for something more. It's just that, so far, the universe hasn't given him any signal of what that thing might be. Steve tries, he does, he wants to give Nancy the best of everything, wants to amount to more than what people expect of him. It's just that he's been told his entire life he's too dumb, too clumsy and goofy, not college material, and now, not that great of husband material, either. He can't help but fear they're all right. Can't bring himself to take a risk, really, because what if he makes the wrong decision and ends up alone in a ditch, destitute, and unloved for all eternity? His philosophy is that it's always safer to deal with the devil he knows.

The problem is that he and Nancy… Well, if he's honest with himself, and _he is_ trying to be, lately they remind him too much of his parents for this relationship to be anything other than extremely fucked up and over with. It’s a miracle they're still together at all. Complacency is a hell of a drug, and he's nothing if not a loyal addict. After all, he is the chump who followed his high school sweetheart to the big city and then failed to do anything with his life. 

And then it all comes to a head. He and Nancy are discussing Christmas plans, Nancy one bottle of wine deeper than the conversation warrants. And then, out of nowhere, Nancy unearths the boulder of their discontent and doesn't hold back. She calls him bullshit. Asks what they were doing with their lives since Steve always looks so fucking sad, and she doesn't even love him anymore. It's brutal.

This morning, after they both woke up stiff and awkward from sleeping as far away from each other as possible, and because this is the story of Steve's ridiculous life, instead of acknowledging the fact Nancy damaged the illusion of their lives together, they started a bizarre game of chicken. The rule seems to be that the first one to mention anything that happened last night will have to be the one to do something about it.

And Steve is not about to lose this one.

Which brings them back to this diner, and Steve's favorite comfort food. Steve takes the first bite of his eggs and realizes they're hard and a little bit too crispy. 

That's okay as far as diner eggs go, and he usually wouldn't complain about it. On the grand scheme of his crumbling life, his egg order being wrong is nothing, who gives a shit. It's just that today he gives an immense amount of shits, the promise of his eggs being a little bit runny was the last thing holding him together right now, he _needs_ this one thing to be right. So, he flags the waitress, is very sincere in how much he's sorry to even complain but asks if it's possible to get it fixed anyway. The waitress smiles and says, "For sure, sweetie," and a few minutes later reappears with his plate and an odd look in her face. 

He looks down at two hard-boiled eggs. There’s a fat strip of bacon in the middle.

Steve doesn't feel responsible for what happens next. One minute he's staring at the fucking _egg dick_ incredulously, and the next, his eyes snap up to the little window in front of the kitchen and lock with the smuggest mullet haired bitch he's ever seen his life. 

It's like the rest of the world disappears, everything goes eerily silent, and he's out of his body, watching himself get up against Nancy's muffled protests, hard-boiled egg in hand. He watches the egg fly from his hand, as if in slow motion, across the whole diner, over the other customer's shocked looks, and hit the guy square in the forehead. And then the mullet bitch isn't laughing anymore. In fact, he's angrily untying his apron and opening the kitchen door.

"Oh, shit," is all Steve can say. 

The guy is basically stalking in Steve's direction while screaming a long and detailed string of curses that ends with "What the hell is your damage, egg boy?" Steve starts sweating, this can’t be good.

He grabs one of Nancy's waffles and holds it in self-defense. "My problem, Mullet," he says, "Is that you can't fucking cook." Mullet's eyebrows go up, and Steve barely ducks in time to avoid the fist coming in his direction. 

Steve throws the waffle, watches it slide down Mullet's bare chest. His shirt is basically entirely unbuttoned, which, unsanitary. Steve looks around wildly, hoping for some support, but all he finds are the alarmed faces of the few customers staring at their sad display. No one in the staff seems to give a shit either. The waitress who served him is reading a paperback with two shirtless men kissing on the cover.

There's nothing to it then, Steve open hand slaps Mullet across the face. Feels a bit sorry for a second, but then Mullet is laughing and slapping back, and it's all a blur of knocked over chairs, fallen cutlery, and people barely getting out of their way in time to avoid a stray elbow to the gut. 

They reach a stalemate a few minutes in, both of them stalking around an empty table. Steve eyes a mug that still has coffee in it tentatively, but Mullet immediately susses him out.

"You throw coffee at me," Mullet warns, dead serious, "I fucking kill you."

Steve has had enough as he circles the table.

"Listen, you psycho," Steve says, and with each word pushes Mullet backward. Steve notices the guy's chest is really... Solid. "I don't know what's wrong with you that you can't fucking cook a simple egg-" but he can't finish because it's at this point that Mullet hits him over the head with a plastic tray he must have conjured from thin air, for all Steve sees it coming.

Steve gasps despite himself, in a second is crowding Mullet against a cleaning station, "You fucking cheater!"

"Oh, can I only hit you with food groups, princess?" Mullet laughs, and it's incredible how he looms over Steve with just a movement when he's a good inch shorter. Steve tries to keep his shoulders square. "Don't be a fucking wimp." 

And truly, this takes the cake. Not only are his eggs ruined, but he's also being humiliated by a David Coverdale looking motherfucker with the saddest excuse for a mustache mankind has ever seen. For a moment, Steve wonders if God has truly abandoned him. Then, Mullet pushes him and starts to turn around, like Steve is no longer worthy of his attention.

Now, _that_ is not going to happen.

"Oh, I'll show you who's the fucking wimp, you Whitesnake reject," Steve advances, but before he's able to do anything, or really notice how Mullet's eyes light up at Steve's insult, he feels someone grab him by the jacket.

"Enough!" Nancy says, quietly but clearly seething with rage, her hands forcefully putting a few inches between Mullet and Steve. "What the _fuck_ , Steve?"

"Yeah, _Steve_ ," Mullet says, smiling like a fucking shark, breath coming fast, a bit of blood leaking slowly out of his nose, blue eyes still firmly locked with Steve's. "What the fuck?"

And, honestly? Fuck if Steve knows.

-

Nancy, understandably, breaks up with him. It seems that a brawl at a Waffle House is one come to Jesus moment too many for their relationship. Steve can't say he's surprised and, being fair to Nancy, she's as kind as it's possible to be in their situation. She would always have to be the one to rip this particular band-aid when the time came. Steve just isn't wired to deal with his unhappiness in any productive way.

It's not the break-up that really does him in. He can't say he loved Nancy in any way other than as a friend for a long time too. What fucks him up is what Nancy tells him while they're fighting for the final time. Turns out, Nancy is _moving to LA,_ and not only that, she's going to live with _Barb_ and write a gossip column in the lesbian magazine Barb works for. Steve can count on his hands the number of times Nancy mentioned Barb since their falling out in high school and that number is zero. He's also grown accustomed to Nancy's spiel about the value of trashy social columns and what she'd do if offered that kind of job.

He realizes they hadn't really been together for months, for Nancy not to even mention any of that. That Nancy was building a life raft for herself while he, dumbly, believed that he'd survive out in the open with nothing at all. It's like he's not just losing a partner, but also seeing their friendship crumble to ashes. Nancy didn't even give him a chance to support her. That's the thing that kills him. He's never meant to have Nancy be his only friend in New York, but it happened. And he never meant to lose her friendship so spectacularly and, yet, here he is.

"Nance," he says. "Writing meaningless gossip goes against everything you worked so hard for all these years, I just don't understand."

And she sighs unhappily, looking tired of fighting, tired of _them_. Steve sighs too. Nancy crosses the living room that they somehow ended up at opposite ends of, and touches his cheek tenderly. And then she gives him the mercy shot.

"It has to be better than this."

That night she packs a few of her things and moves to one of her coworkers' apartments indefinitely. And what follows for Steve are two of the days he's least proud of in his life. He listens to Jolene on repeat for hours, thinking uncharitable thoughts about Barbara fucking Holland and eating dry Cheerios by the handful until his upstairs neighbor comes knocking at the door to yell at him and ends up hugging him instead. He cries his way through Risky Business enough times he thinks he'll never be able to watch the movie again. 

By the end of his bender, he thinks he's reached some higher understanding about what forgiveness means and also concludes this is definitely payback for the time he let Barb freeze outside in his pool while Nancy and he had sex for the first time. And for the double dates he ruined for her as well, when he kept pointing out she never clicked with anyone at all and asking what they were doing wrong. How was he to know Barb was a lesbian? She didn't dress like one.

Well, they were in Indiana, maybe that was the Indiana lesbian look. He did say sorry right after she and Nancy had had a screaming match about it in his backyard, and the look he got in return is one he'll never forget. So, maybe he deserves this, is what he's trying to say.

By Monday, he's feeling marginally better, although not enough to be around other humans and pretend he's been anything but dumped to fucking hell. He talks to his boss and takes all the paid time off he can, which is a lot since Nancy always worked so much he barely had a reason to use any. He goes home thinking this will be a good time to get his head back together.

A week only in his own company, with nothing to do but watch Jeopardy, cry and jerk off later, he doesn't know what the fuck he was thinking. He's lousy company on a good day, right now? He can't stand himself. Everything Nancy said to him keeps replaying on a fucking loop until he wants to punch himself in case this will work to get everything to go away. Most of all, he just wants to _feel something else._

He keeps thinking about blue eyes and a ridiculous fucking mullet, and he has no idea why.

The next Friday finds him sneaking around Hell's Kitchen like he's about to do something illegal. Steve has felt like a fucking fool more than he'd like to admit, but right now, he's really pushing it. Still, there's something so… Exhilarating to what he's about to do. Also fucking stupid, but then, he's never claimed to be above this sort of pettiness. He's going to start a fight with a dude, and he's not proud, but he isn't completely ashamed either.

When he enters the Waffle House, it's almost like everyone has been told to expect him. A few of the staff actually cracks up, he sees the erotica waitress and another girl with lip piercings exchange some money. All in all, it's like walking into the twilight zone, he can't lie. The waitress approaches his table with an air of infinite amusement, asks what his order is just for formality, because all it takes is one look from him and she's walking back to the kitchen with an "Alright, alright, let's do this."

And do this they do. Mullet comes to serve Steve personally. The way he's dressed is basically indecent. Steve genuinely gets flustered when the guy saunters out of the kitchen in his direction and has to hold on to the table, knuckles white. Mullet's shirt has basically one button done, and his pants are so tight nothing is left to the imagination. His hair seems to be bigger too, it's almost like _he's dressed up for this_. Steve, who's in sweats and has bed hair feels fucking inadequate, it's disconcerting.

Mullet stops in front of him, plate up in the air. They stare at each other.

"No girlfriend today?" He asks, a hard edge to his smile.

"No cheating today?" Steve answers in kind. Mullet snorts and drops the entire plate of scrambled eggs on Steve's head. 

Steve smiles.

-

It takes a few fights, but eventually, Mullet seems to notice Nancy isn't going to be around anymore. His teasing grows tenfold, and Steve isn't ready for it at all. If he had any fear someone would eventually ban him from even walking through the door, it's settled when he comes in one day and Roxy, the girl with the lip piercings, takes a look at him and yells, "Billy, he's fucking dressed up, level up your game!". 

So that's how Steve figures out he's been fighting _Billy_ for two weeks. And that they're basically a household name at this point. He doesn't know when his life became this, but that's where he is right now. And then, on a Tuesday, just as he's putting on cologne to see a man about his eggs, the phone rings.

"Steve, my man," comes Dustin's voice, deep and warm from the receiver. "How are you?"

Steve can't help but smile, he loves this kid. At the same time, it'll never stop being jarring listening to Dustin talk and hearing a low voice come out. They're all so grown up, most of them taller than him and scattered all around the country studying incredible things. One of his biggest accomplishments in life was earning their friendship.

It might sound lame, but for one, it really wasn't easy to do so, for a long while he was just Nancy's douchebag boyfriend and they couldn't stand him. Steve can't even really blame them; he used to be sleazy as hell, still doesn't know what Nancy saw in him most days.

But then Nancy started writing for the school's paper, and that left Steve's afternoons bereft and so very lonely since he was unceremoniously dropped by his entire social circle after punching Tommy H. in the face. One joke about it around Nancy too many led to Steve, Mike and Lucas unhappily sitting inside his car driving back from school every day, for "company." Which, in turn, made his street cred with The Party's moms alarmingly high, and suddenly Steve's life had been blindsided with a pretty solid gig as a glorified babysitter. And, he had fun, perish the thought.

The kids were an infinite well of weirdness, and most of what they talked about went right over Steve's head, but he liked that after a while, they included him. Because they figured out he was loaded and could get them shit, but still. Some of the best weekends he had in Hawkins were the ones where he played DnD with the nerds, and they even dragged Nancy into it, eventually, much to Dustin's delight.

But it wasn't until the summer where Will went missing that they really became friends. That summer, Will had tentatively come out to a few of them, and it had gone mostly well. Somehow it got back to his asshole of a dad, and Steve found himself with his beemer full of worried teens crossing state lines to get Will out of conversion camp. Some things just unite people, beating up homophobes in Missouri to rescue one of the best kids in the world is one of them.

Plus, he got to watch Will's mom punch a nun. That was a highlight for sure.

"Dustin, I haven't heard from you for weeks," Steve says, mock sternly, "Are you too cool for the likes of us who aren't MIT hotshots, now?"

"We had phone DnD a week ago, stop being needy." Dustin dismisses him and goes right for the kill. "Besides, I heard you've been busy wrestling some dude about your breakfast, is this your new thing? Cause I have a name for you, how do you feel about the Bacontaker?"

Cold dread travels all over Steve's body. If Dustin knows, then Mike knows and if Mike knows… Well, everybody does. Nancy told her mom. An unexpected wave of sadness hits him, Steve has to sit down right there on his kitchen's dirty floor. He notices the grout is getting moldy again.

"So you all know already, huh?" he says.

"Yeah, Steve, sorry." Dustin answers. "How are you holding up, other than by throwing eggs at random men?"

Steve feels like he needs to defend his honor a little bit. Who knows what the fuck Mike told the party, he was there the weekend he met El, he knows how his stories go.

"First of all," he begins, he can hear Dustin murmur _Oh boy_ , but is undeterred, "I'm not attacking just anyone with breakfast foods, it's just this one asshole and, Dustin, he's like the mold for all assholes, he's like from whence all assholes originated."

"Whence?" Dustin says with barely contained delight. "Wait, don't distract me, are you implying you're still fighting with this guy?" And when Steve has no answer to that, Dustin sighs the sigh of the deeply weary.

"Steve, do you need someone to come over?" he says, suddenly serious. "Will is closer, but if you hold on for a few weeks, I'll just drive up during the winter break."

Steve, alarmingly, feels his eyes fill with hot tears, this kid, he's just too much. Steve should be the one driving over in a hurry because a girl broke Dustin's heart, he's not supposed to be the one who's an absolute mess. Life is just too much to deal with right now.

"No, kid," he says, voice tight, trying to reel his shitty emotions in, "I'm fine, honest, Nance and I… It's been coming for a while, you know?"

"Steve, you guys were together for like, forever, you can't tell me this fight thing is unrelated," Dustin says. "If you don't want us to check on you, fine, but you have to promise you'll stop with this shit. Or I'll sic El on you, you know how scary she can be."

Steve goes a bit white. "You wouldn't," he says.

"Try me," is Dustin's only answer.

"Alright, alright, I'm not gonna smash the mullet out of that asshole's head, don't worry about it," he lies.

"You better not," Dustin says. "Also, Mom is mailing you a lot of food, she's worried you're not eating out of sadness and stuff."

"Ugh, your mom knows? Dustin!"

"Well, sorry!"

-

Steve almost feels bad for lying, it's just that Billy still has the upper hand and he needs to win one more tiny little fight. It'll be nothing. Nobody has to know.

Besides, Billy is getting so creative with his cooking. Steve honestly didn't know there were so many ways to cook eggs just to throw them at someone's face. Lately, he wakes up so excited about what Billy might put in front of him in the mornings, it's difficult to even consider giving it up. He hasn't looked forward to anything in his life for so long, he needs the change.

Plus, he's been making friends with Roxy, and Angela, who has actually lent him a few of her books, and everyone else from the Waffle House staff because they're good people who live for Steve and Billy's antics. Who is he to deny the people a show? Everyone has a right to their kicks.

So, when he walks in that day, he doesn't expect anything unusual to happen. Billy comes out wearing a goddamned Judas Priest shirt cut at the midriff to show off his abs, and that being a thing that now happens to Steve at 9 in the morning, just means he has to deal with it to the best of his ability. 

Billy has what appears to be a highly stylized frittata that Steve would actually rather eat, but admitting that would be admitting defeat. So, he schools his face into a neutral expression and uses his middle finger to push the plate off the table, not breaking eye contact with Billy for even one second. Billy sends an "Oh, you're dead, pretty boy," with heat his way, before lifting him from the table by the shirt like Steve weighs nothing, and all that's left for Steve to do is to act like that doesn't impress him at all.

They slap each other around the diner, the usual shtick that now gets them hoots and clapping, and Steve almost has the upper hand this time, when Billy is called away for an urgent kitchen situation. Steve tries not to let the disappointment show in his face and is about to sit down and see if Angela will sneak him some waffles when his feet decide to betray him and abandon the floor. A stray piece of frittata goes up in the air as he just fucking eats it right then and there, crash landing onto a random table, getting mayo all over his face.

"Well, Steve Harrington," says the owner of the table in question, "this is a new low, even for you." And, indeed, those seem to be coming at a fast pace for him these days. 

He's not proud of the fact it takes him a minute to place the extremely unimpressed girl before him, he's also not proud to have mayo dripping from his nose directly into her sandwich. When it does click, what he says seems to only deteriorate his case. "Ahoy girl!" he snaps his fingers in triumph, as much as one can have after losing a fight to a guy and to gravity at the same time.

"Honestly, you spend one summer slinging ice cream in a sailor costume, and it's all people remember you for," she says, and then taking pity on him,continues, "It's Robin, but I'll forgive you for not knowing that. Not really about the sandwich, though."

And now he really does remember Robin. Barb worked with her that Summer too, which was what stopped him from ever trying to say anything more than the dorky Ahoy to either of them. Sure, he's dumb, but he doesn't have a death wish now, and he sure didn't have one back then. He still vividly remembers watching them make a grown man leave the shop crying while he and Dustin had been eating sundays and, after that, he felt like a healthy dose of pure unadulterated fear of them both wasn’t a bad thing to have. 

So, with that in mind, he gives Robin his best smile and asks, "Can I make it up to you?" 

-

"Okay, wait," Robin says when they walk out of the deli they stopped at so Steve could pay for a new sandwich, and she's looking almost giddy at his predicament, "are you telling me Steve the hair Harrington is on an _egg feud_ with a random metalhead from Hell's Kitchen?"

"Well, when you put it like _that_ ," Steve says with a wince, genuinely questioning all the life choices that have led him to this moment.

"I don't know how else you want me to put it," Robin says around a bite of her gigantic sandwich, Steve is kind of impressed. She goes on while chewing, "Dear God, Steve-o, how the mighty have fallen." 

And Steve has no defense to that, his life did turn out to be one ridiculous event after another.

"I'm taking the sandwich back," he threatens, as his last resort. But Robin just laughs in his face and crosses the street without waiting to see if he's catching up. He does his best to keep up.

"So," she says, "How's Nancy? Barb told me you moved here together, right?"

And, oh boy, here they go. During these few weeks by himself, Steve does come to find an advantage to having no friends in the city, he doesn’t have to explain to a single soul why his girlfriend of almost 10 years is no longer around. Just the idea of trying to spin the story and not come out as a giant idiot who caused the whole thing as a result of his horribly misguided actions is enough to cover him in hives.

Whatever wretched thing his face is doing, though, seems to be enough to give Robin a clue as to what happened. She stops in the middle of the sidewalk and looks at him for a moment.

"Oh, buddy," she pats his shoulder awkwardly. "Was it recent?" She asks and grimaces back at his nod. 

"I get why you're being pathetic around discount Rob Lowe now." She says, sagely, and cackles at his indignant squawk. 

Robin quickly becomes a fixture in his life. It's strange how well they mesh together after such little time. He feels like she's always been there, calling him a fucking dingdong while ruffling his hair. She's studying music in Julliard, wants to write for Broadway, and mocks Steve without sparing a thought for his dignity every single second of the day. 

She and Heather, who used to work in the pool back in Hawkins, are living together now and have been dating for years too. And, Christ, it really must be something in the water in Hawkins. He's under no illusions that a scantily clothed Billy does not get him hot under the collar way before most people are even coherent enough to drink their coffee. Plus, well, high school before Nancy sure was an adventure.

"Well, you did choose to live in the Village," Robin says when he voices his concern that everyone he talks to will keep turning out to be a flaming homosexual. And she does make an excellent point. Even if later that month, his rent gets so outrageous, he has to talk to Nancy and, through stilted conversation, finally split all of their belongings while he looks for a new apartment.

Heather, who is an angel, finds a spot in the building next to her and Robin's in Chelsea that is rent-controlled and minimally rat-infested, and they help him move one cold winter morning. He gives Nancy his new phone number for emergencies because he just wouldn't feel right not doing so, although she explains she might be leaving for California soon, and that's that. The final Nancy and Steve together chapter of his life. 

Through it all, he keeps sneaking some time to try and get his perfect runny eggs at the diner, at least, that's what he tells Robin and Heather's raised eyebrows and knowing smiles. It's the principle of the thing, plus Billy has got to have a cookbook stashed somewhere, and Steve just needs to see where Billy will take this next. 

Robin, much to Steve's mortification, insists that Steve's next move should be just putting a finger up Billy's ass and be done with it because no one can take that level of sexual tension anymore. But Steve knows she has at least 50 bucks running on him getting caught blowing Billy in public in Roxy's poll, and he will not give her the satisfaction. And that is the gospel truth, he's proving his point, not so absolutely paralyzed with fear of rejection some days the best he can do is to stare at Billy's toned arms and quietly _yearn_ , like a heroine from a period drama. Fuck his life. 

And then, suddenly, it's December, and Steve's life has never been so different. He feels like a different person, like maybe he's finally on the right path. Who knows? Stranger things have happened.

-

Christmas morning finds Steve waking up with a start because his phone's ringing at some ungodly hour no one should be awake ever. His anger dissipates though when he learns it's Dustin and his mom. Dustin might be tall as a fucking hedge and kind of a big deal at MIT, but he'll always be a nerd who wakes up too early on Christmas because he just can't help himself.

They talk for a bit about their plans for the day and what Dustin has been doing with his break. Steve says "of course I'm not fighting anyone over bacon, Dustin, will you stop?" like a liar, and technically, it's over eggs, and they haven't really fought it in a long while, so he's basically in the clear. Then, Dustin bowls him over.

"So, you notice how no one mailed you a present this year?" He asks, and yeah, Steve had noticed. He figured it was just, well, he wasn't with Nancy anymore. He tried not to be upset about it.

"Well," Dustin goes on without giving Steve a chance to say anything, "the whole party pitched in and, yeah, the parents too, mom, I'm telling him, okay? So, after new year's, we're all flying to the big apple!"

Steve's heart stops. They're coming over just for him? He can't really understand, it seems too good to be true. Steve is speechless.

"Steve?" Dustin asks, concerned. "Should we have gotten you something else? I knew it-" Steve doesn't let Dustin spiral.

"No!" he says. "No, Dustin, it's perfect. Are you all coming over? Just to see me?"

"No, we want to see the Empire State building," Dustin says. "Of course we're coming for you, you had a rough year, and we love you. But also, Will does want to go to a few museums, so good luck with that, 'cause you're the host."

Steve laughs, grins so big it hurts a little. Can't help but start blubbering right after. Of course, he's going to be okay, of course, he's not alone. He doesn't even care that everyone saw right through all of his _I'm fines_ , doesn't care that they think he's lonely and in need of company. He is, actually. And that's okay. He'll just have to lean on his people a little while getting back on his feet.

"Dustin," he says with way too much feeling. " _Thank you_."

"Aw, Steve," and he can hear Dustin is sniffling too. "It's no big deal, really."

But they both know it's the biggest of deals, none of them have that much money anymore, in some cases, never had enough to begin with, so he knows this means the kids skipped presents to each other too and who knows what else. He'll just have to make this the best trip they've ever had. 

-

Steve never meant to spend Christmas by himself even if he wasn't about to go back to Hawkins to spend time with his parents. For one, they are in the Bahamas, and two, even if they weren’t, just the prospect of standing around a place that is full of memories and having to explain Nancy's absence to literally everyone and their moms is too harrowing to even contemplate.

Robin and Heather's plans had fallen through, though, so at first, they're supposed to spend the holidays together. Steve's looking forward to it too, those two are too wacky to have a normal day on a regular week, so everything's bound to go off the rails extraordinarily. But then, the organizer of their annual lesbian retreat reconciles with her partner, and the trip is abruptly back on. They insist Steve should come with, saying that some bi girls and cute gay guys always travel with them too, but Steve doesn't feel like being around new people.

"You have your eyes set on one pair of eggs already, huh?" Robin says, waggling her eyebrows. "But, seriously, do you promise to be okay?" She asks, suddenly serious. 

So Steve promises her he won't wallow. And here he is, trying not to.

He does start feeling cooped up and miserable, though, it's inevitable despite Dustin's good news. So he decides to walk a bit, grabs his Walkman and his biggest coat, and just wanders around. He's looking at this weird vintage pipe store that has got to be a front for something when someone grabs one of his earbuds and makes him jump one foot up in the air.

"You would be listening to George Michael, pretty boy," comes Billy's disappointed voice from very close, and Steve can't help the smile that comes over his face. He's not in the mood for a Discussion on Christmas, still, it has to be said.

"You dress awfully similar to the guy to be this upset I listen to him," he turns to Billy, grabbing his earbud back with dignity.

"Oh, please," Billy says. "George Michael can't touch this." He points at himself, leather jacket and way too little else for the middle of winter, and cocks his hip a bit. And he does have a point, but Steve's not about to admit that.

"So, are you here to start shit or…" Steve looks at Billy expectantly. Before Billy can answer, though, a redhead leaves the bodega next to the vintage store and walks up to them.

"Who's this?" She asks, looking at Steve with the least amount of interest he's been met with in a long while. 

"Friend from work," Billy says and shrugs at Steve's raised eyebrows. "This is my sister, Max," he adds to Steve.

"Nice to meet you," Steve says. She and Billy don't look much alike, except for the eyes. They both stare at Steve with the same aloof intensity, it's a bit unnerving, he has to say. There's a bit of an awkward silence, and Steve is ready to say goodbye when Billy talks again.

"Was expecting you to come for your Christmas eggs this morning," he says, and, what do you know, he sounds _disappointed_. At this, though, Max lights up.

"Wait," she says, smiling like the Cheshire cat. " _This_ is the egg guy? Oho, everything makes sense now." 

"What?" Steve can't help but ask, bemusedly, alternating looks at Billy, who seems like he wants at least one of them to drop dead immediately and Max, whose smile only seems to get bigger by the minute.

"Nothing," Billy is quick to say. This conversation is derailing by the minute, and Steve is getting an arsenal on Billy, not only does he talk about Steve, by the looks of it, he's been saying some wild shit. Steve feels his face heat up a bit, because, well, Billy _is talking about him_. Before he can come up with some wise quip, though, Max speaks again.

"You alone for Christmas, Steve?" She asks while dodging one of Billy's elbows with practice. 

"Yeah, actually," Steve says with a shrug, watching the two of them have a silent fight solely through glaring, something is going on. "Didn't feel like going back home this year, you know how it is," he adds.

"Yeah," says Max, and with a final raised eyebrow at Billy, she turns to Steve with her full attention. "It's decided then, you're spending the day with us." She says, and undeterred by Billy's protests, goes ahead and loops her arm through Steve's and begins walking.

"I am?" Steve says, struggling to keep up with Max's determined stride, but amused nonetheless. Billy is following, a cigarette dangling from his pouting lips and a glower to rival all the grumpy old men in the tri-state area. It's adorable.

"Yes, you are," Max says. "We're about to go skating at the Rockefeller, actually, so I hope you know what you're doing."

Steve does know what he's doing, he was raised in fucking Indiana, learned how to skate in frozen lakes before he even knew how to walk. Billy, on the other hand, looks like a murderous baby deer. It takes both Max and Steve taunting him mercilessly through the entire walk to the skating rink for him to even deign himself annoyed enough by what they have to say. And another two minutes of Steve double dog daring him before he huffs and resignedly gets himself into a pair of skates.

He's been wobbling near the edge of the rink ever since, unsuccessfully trying to dodge small children and exchanging angry looks with their parents when they have to loop their kids out of his way. Steve is having the time of his life but takes pity once it looks like Billy is about to storm off as fast as his skates will allow him.

"Here," he says, and grabs Billy's hand before Billy gets to protest. "You just need to get a feel for it." He skates backward and holds both of Billy's hands, now. 

Billy has this cute determined frown on his face, and Steve knows he'll get the hang of it quickly enough. He just looks like the kind of person who doesn't do things halfway. For now, though, they loop the rink holding fast to each other, Billy growing comfortable by the minute.

"Wouldn't have pegged you for a figure skater, pretty boy," he says, looking at Steve with a sparkle in his eyes. "You have one of those little outfits to go with your routines to show me?" He winks and licks his lips suggestively. Steve is annoyed that it works for him.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he says, and just to be a shit, drops Billy's hands and skates ahead so he can do a little jump. 

He does like figure skating, actually, took a few classes as a kid, before his dad put a stop to it. Billy wobbles dangerously, though, so Steve quickly skates back and grabs his hand again while taking a bow at Billy's sarcastic clapping.

"You're full of mysteries under that beautiful hair, huh," Billy says, squeezing Steve's hand. And Steve blushes a little, it's impossible not to when he's near Billy, so sue him.

Max does another loop around them, skating confidently while clearly mocking both of them with just a raised eyebrow and a pointed look at their tangled hands. "You two are adorable," she says, her hands coming to her heart, sighing like a lovesick princess who loves to love.

"Maxine," Billy says coldly, "I'm not above falling to my death so I can take you out with me."

Max cackles while skating away. And Steve realizes that for the first time in a while, he's just… Content. He's holding hands with a beautiful boy during a crisp winter day, and everything is wonderful, actually. He could stand to do this again. In fact, he hopes he gets to. Smiles openly at Billy and gets a smile back.

Once they're back in only slightly less slippery land, but with their regular shoes on, wandering aimlessly watching the retreating sun, Billy grabs Steve's hand again. Steve looks at Billy in surprise, gets another suggestive wink for his trouble, but thinks there's an edge of shyness to Billy now, like it costs him something to do this, which just makes it all the more special.

"You hungry?" Billy asks both Steve and Max and nods at their mumbled agreements. "I know a place," he says.

He takes them to the darkened diner, closed for the night. Billy has the key, though, and suddenly they're in the familiar scenery of all their morning fights. Billy turns on some music, puts his apron on, nods, and turns to Steve and Max, who have made themselves comfortable at the counter. "What can I get you both?" he asks.

"You know what," Steve says, chin in hand, "Surprise me."

Billy smiles big, and Max makes some gagging noises. She orders some overly complicated sounding dish, but Billy just ruffles her hair and says, "Sure thing, carrot top," to her rolling eyes, and gets to work in the kitchen.

Steve talks to Max easily enough, and likes her a lot already. She tells him Billy is her stepbrother, that they actually just moved from California, and here her face closes for a moment, so Steve decides not to pry. She wants to be a pro skater, is still getting a feel for the New York scene, but thinks it's promising. 

Billy comes out of the kitchen, holding three plates, hands Max's hers while saying, "your royal highness queen of the assholes," hands Steve his with a smile and a "pretty boy."

Steve takes a look at what he's about to eat. There's a pretty stack of pancakes drenched in syrup, some bacon and, to Steve's delight, eggs that are cooked just so, the yolk yellow and runny. He looks at Billy and begins to laugh and finds that once he's started, he cannot stop. Billy, who has just sat beside him with the same dish, laughs too. Soon they're both laughing so hard they're crying, and Max looks at them like they're both fucking embarrassing. And, well, they really are, what can they do.

Once Steve and Billy calm themselves, they all eat in companionable silence, Paul McCartney telling them to simply have a wonderful Christmas time. Max soon excuses herself, says she has better shit to do. Punches Billy's arm and hugs Steve, says, "Glad you spent the day with us, loser." And leaves them both to stare expectantly at each other.

"So," Steve says, shit-eating grin in place, "You do know how to cook after all."

Billy laughs silently, comes up to stand right in Steve's space, cups one of Steve's cheeks.

"Shut up," he says. And covers Steve's mouth with his own. Steve's brain short circuits, Billy's lips are soft and demanding, everything Steve didn't know he needed.

He does what he's been wanting to for weeks and grabs two handfuls of Billy's amazing ass. Billy groans and deepens the kiss nipping at Steve's lower lip and tangling their tongues. Steve is quickly losing it but finds he doesn't fucking care, Billy is that good.

They make out for a while until their lips are numb, and they bump into one of their plates, sending it to an early demise on the floor.

"We gotta stop breaking shit," Steve says amusedly, his forehead touching Billy's. Billy laughs, gives him another quick peck.

"I guess it's time for cleanup, amigo," he says, and with one final kiss, goes out back and returns with a dustpan and broom. They clean while sneaking heated glances every now and then, and all too soon, Billy is turning the diner's light off again, and they're both standing outside, looking at each other.

"You wanna come back to mine?" Steve asks, nerves growing at an alarming rate. He wants Billy to say yes so badly, but at the same time would rather crawl into a hole and die. Billy winces, though.

"I can't," he says and seems genuinely sorry. "Gotta take care of the brat, and I have the first shift tomorrow." 

"Oh," Steve says and finds that he's sorry too. He takes the marker he grabbed from the counter while they tidied up from his pocket and asks for Billy's hand. Billy gives in easily, and Steve writes his number on the back of Billy's hand, giving it a kiss before letting go. "Call me?" He asks.

Billy smiles all teeth and dimples, kisses Steve for a long time, and pats his chest when he steps back. "You got it," he says.

And then he walks off, whistling. Steve's whole body shudders, he feels like fist-pumping, but stops himself just in time, because Billy looks back and winks and Steve waves dorkly and doesn't even care.

-

It's pushing 11, and Steve is just too giddy to go to bed, he's chuckling to himself from time to time and honest to God blushing. He's missed this, feeling excited about someone new. Sure, being so comfortable with someone you don't really have to feel awkward around and you both have your little routines is pretty cool, but there's something to be said for the part in new flings where you're both figuring stuff out. It's, you know, thrilling, makes you feel alive. 

He's just considering sending everything to hell and drinking some questionable champagne he found in a random box in his new tiny kitchen when the phone rings. He smiles excitedly, surprised that Billy would call so soon, but happy all the same. He answers with an animated hello.

"Hi, Steve, Merry Christmas." And it's not Billy, It's Nancy. Steve feels a wave of disappointment, but also weirdly touched that Nancy's still making sure to talk to him on Christmas like they've always done.

"Hey, Nance," he says, "you already in California having a warm Christmas for a change?" 

And it stings, a little, that he's not sure. That he doesn't get to know about Nancy's comings and goings, he supposes it's just what happens when you've been with someone for so long and suddenly find yourself without them.

"Yeah, I'm here. It's weird not having snow for Christmas, you know, seems like it isn't really real," she says. They have an awkward pause. "Oh, Barb says hi," she finishes.

Steve can hear a snort in the background and Barb's voice saying, "Sure, I do." He laughs despite himself, he can imagine Barb's face, if Robin's reaction to seeing him again is anything to go by. The Ahoys of the past are still smarting. He misses her, though, finds that he's glad she and Nancy reconnected.

"When do you start working?" he asks, and is genuinely interested, he knows Nancy is going to knock it out of the park.

"Ah, just after new year's, I'm really excited, I've met a few people already, it's going to be different, I think," Nancy says, Steve can hear her suck some air as if to continue, but then Nancy goes abruptly quiet.

"Nancy? You okay?" He asks.

"Steve," Nancy says, and her voice seems odd. "Why are you still fighting that Waffle House guy?"

And Steve honestly didn't expect that question to happen. Has no idea how Nancy even knows. He knows Robin and Barb are still good friends, but she wouldn't have told Barb, would she? 

"Peter from work saw you," Nancy explains, and Steve sighs, resignedly. Figures that nosy dude who's always with a camera would be the one to tell on him. "Steve, I know it's not my place anymore, but don't you think this is going too far?"

"Nancy, I-" and he doesn't know how to continue, wants to tell Nancy about Billy, and how they might have something going on. But is this a thing you tell your ex-girlfriend? He just doesn't know.

"Nance, do you think we'll ever be friends again?" is what he finds himself saying instead. He misses her. They weren't together for all those years just for convenience, really. Nancy is so smart and a great person to talk to, he finds himself just wanting her insight way more often than he thought he would.

He can hear Nancy's breath take a hitch he knows means she's tearing up. He's not proud to admit he is too, a little.

"Steve, of course," she says. "I do miss you, you know? I'm sorry, I really am."

"I'm sorry too." And Steve really is. "We were both kind of awful to each other for a while, huh?" He says, and Nancy laughs wetly.

"Yeah, yeah, we were," She agrees. "Friends, then?" She asks.

"Friends," Steve says, smiling, and uses the back of his hands to brush away the tears that manage to escape.

He and Nancy spend close to an hour just talking about life, something they hadn't done anything close to in months. It’s good. He'll always care deeply for this girl, she did change his life for the better. It's good to have her back even if in a different way. They're just saying goodbye when Steve can't hold back what he's been thinking for a while.

"Tell Barb her glasses are fucking ugly," he says and cackles when Nancy does. He can hear Barb getting the news and her exasperated huff. Suddenly her voice comes clear through the line.

"Steve Harrington, I'll have you know my glasses are a fucking delight!" Barb says, "I'm mailing you a picture." She unceremoniously hangs up the phone.

And a Polaroid does get to his apartment a few days later. Steve has to admit her glasses are actually very charming. He does mail back a picture of himself flipping the bird, though.

-

Billy spends a few days on radio silence, and Steve would be worried, but he knows how busy the holidays can be in the city, plus Billy always takes as many shifts as he can. At first, Steve thought it was out of the sick pleasure of being able to yell at him through the diner's kitchen at any hour of the day Steve decided to show his face at Billy's place of work, but now he knows Billy has Max to think about, so he's not upset. Really.

That doesn't mean he doesn't beam like a lovesick fool as soon as he answers the phone on New Year's Eve and hears Billy's voice on the other side of the line.

"Pretty boy," he says in a low voice, "missed me too much?"

"Only enough to realize how much of a dickhead you are, then I stopped," Steve answers and, god, he did miss the guy, so very much. Just the thought of their kisses is enough to have him crossing his legs, as to maintain the illusion he's a functioning adult and not a horny teenager anymore.

"Yeah?" Billy says, "Bet you only stopped so you could shove that big hand of yours-" and at this, he can hear Max yelling something unintelligible in the background. Still, he thinks he gets the gist of it when Billy yells back, and they have a fight Steve can only raise his eyebrows at, laughing at the masterclass of the English language going on in Billy's apartment.

"Anyway," Billy comes back as if nothing abnormal happened, and the sound of a door slamming comes through. "What are your plans tonight?"

"Well, I have a hot date," and he can hear Billy take a sharp breath, "with a frozen lasagna and cheap booze, and then I think I'll watch the ball drop and go to sleep." He finishes, makes some sad jazz hands to himself.

"Jesus fucking wept, Steve," Billy says. "Forget that, Max has a party with her dweeb friends, so I'm coming over." He says with finality, and Steve vibrates a little. Billy is coming over. To his apartment.

"Okay," he says. "I'll be waiting."

And then he _scrambles_. He never finished unpacking from his move, his entire apartment is one unfinished project held together with duct tape and hope. He tries his best to make everything presentable, puts his only set of nice bedsheets on the bed because he's nothing if not an optimist. He showers, changes clothes four times, tries to get his hair to be just _so_ , and then, finally, he sits down and waits.

He wants to crawl out of his skin, everything about himself is suddenly unacceptable and undesirable. The thought of being vulnerable with a new person loses the glow of anticipation and becomes pure dread. He's trying to give himself a pep talk as if Robin were here to yell him out of this hole, with moderate success, and then the buzzer rings. 

Here goes nothing, as they say.

To his surprise, everything that always seems so chill and suave in Billy appears to be gone. He looks as nervous as Steve feels, holding a shopping bag, and messing up his hair by running his fingers through it. Steve smiles, knowing that he's not alone settles something in himself, and he's able to relax a little. 

He kisses Billy right there in the doorway, and that seems to make Billy come back to his asshole of a personality, alright. Soon he's making himself at home, mocking Steve's tapes and taste in music, going over his kitchen and despairing at his lack of appropriate cookware.

"Who the fuck only has one fork, Steve?" He's saying while loading his fridge with fresh food he intends to make for them, because if he let Steve in charge, they'd spend the night at the ER with food poisoning, apparently. Steve keeps winding him up, enamored, Billy on a rant is a thing of beauty, and today he has the time to appreciate it.

They spend the afternoon on his sofa, Steve's heater being kind of shit means they have to share the one blanket Steve leaves in the living room for this purpose, and it's _nice._ They end up having conversations Steve never expected to have with Billy, they laugh about old stories, talk quietly about the stories that aren't that nice after all. Kiss until they're so sleepy they end up napping the day away. 

It's so unlike what he expected to have with Billy today, at the same time, though, it's exactly what he needed. Whatever happens with the rest of the night, he knows he's ready for it, actually can't wait to get to the next part, just wants more and more, without second-guessing or reservation.

They cook pasta with Dolly as a soundtrack. Billy puts up a token protest, but Steve sees him mouthing along to Sweet Agony, and can't resist spinning him around the kitchen. Billy _blushes_ , Steve is delighted, and they keep getting derailed to make out against any available surface. Once they're finished, it's already late night, and they're back in the living room watching the broadcast, sharing a champagne bottle between themselves and giggling at nothing at all.

"You know," Billy says during a lull in their conversation, "The first time you entered the diner, I thought I was going to lose it right there, you were that fucking beautiful, made me so angry." He laughs hoarsely.

Steve watches in wonder, Billy seems to be putting all his cards on the table, and Steve wants them all.

"That's why I fucked up your eggs," he explains, "I kept looking at you, your hair was all over the place, and you seemed so fucking pissed off. I just wanted to offer to drop to my knees right there."

"And then I fucking complained," Steve laughs covering his face with his hands.

"And then you turned out to be a bitch, yes," Billy agrees, lowering Steve's hands with his own and giving Steve a peck. "Just made me like you more, though. Saw you had a fire in you." He shrugs. 

And Steve, well, what can Steve say to that other than to just kiss the shit out of Billy? So that's what he does.

They kiss intensely, hands trying to touch everywhere at once, soon Billy has one hand underneath Steve's shirt, palm spread possessively up Steve's back, urging Steve to climb into his lap. Steve does, and the sensation of muscular thighs underneath his own is so foreign and so fucking _amazing_ , he has to take a sharp breath in. Billy groans deep, bites Steve's lower lip, and soothes it with his tongue, devouring Steve's mouth with his own.

Billy lies back on the sofa, and Steve follows, soon their chests are touching, and Steve grinds down, wants to feel the hard line of Billy's dick against his own, wants to know if Billy's as far gone as he already is.

"Oh, fuck," Billy says, his hands traveling down to Steve's ass and squeezing, pulling Steve against him. They both let out long groans, Steve holding Billy's face in both of his hands, kissing him deeply, trying to fuck him with his tongue while grinding down on his dick. Billy keeps making noises like Steve is ruining him, and Steve thinks, wildly, that he might come from this alone.

Somehow they get his shirt off, and Billy kisses up his chest, sucks a nipple into his mouth, Steve arches his back, the line of his neck exposed. "Holy shit, Billy, _fuck_ ," he says, holding Billy's head there. "You're so fucking good." He can feel Billy smiling against his skin, feels like he's going to combust.

Steve gets Billy's shirt off too and dives for Billy's neck, sucking kisses down his chest, wanting more, wanting everything. Billy gets their pants open, and by some miracle of coordination, they lower them down enough to free their dicks. At the first touch, they have to stop just to breathe the same air, panting and laughing a little. 

Billy licks his hand, takes them both in hand and, this, the feeling of another dick against his own, is something Steve hasn't felt in years, and he's instantly reminded he fucking loves it, will want this all the time. Says as much to Billy, whose answer is a muffled _fuck,_ smile disappearing as he speeds up, his other hand sneaking inside Steve's underwear, grabbing his ass. 

Steve touches their foreheads, nips at any part of Billy he can get to, kisses his eyelids, brushing against his long eyelashes, kisses his cheekbones, his jaw, can't help himself. Just wants to be in constant contact, wants to make sure he's tasting Billy, making him feel as good as what Billy's skilled hands are doing for him. 

One of Billy's fingers brushes against Steve's hole, making him gasp out loud, and then all bets are off; they rut against each other with no finesse, too preoccupied with chasing their pleasure to care about having anything close to a rhythm. Steve comes first, hides his face in the crook of Billy's neck, the intensity of it getting to him, Billy's sweet, "Yeah, baby, just like that," making him smile as he comes down from his orgasm. 

Steve licks his palm and tangles his hand with Billy's, jerks him off fast and dirty. All it takes is a twist of his wrist and, just like that, Billy is coming too, his mouth open in the prettiest O, his chest flushed, the entire column of his neck exposed to Steve like a feast he can't resist, he licks a line up to Billy's jaw, kisses his lips, wants to be part of Billy's pleasure. Billy lets him, kisses him back just as desperately. 

Soon they're both too sensitive to do anything but lean on each other, exchanging sweet kisses every now and then. Cuddling underneath the blanket they fish back from the floor.

"I changed my bed into my best sheets for you," Steve says, amused, "And we were both so horny we decided to take our dicks out in this freezer instead, jesus." Billy laughs, his eyes crinkling and, oh, Steve is in _trouble_.

"Well," Billy says, "There's still time to go mess them up, honey."

"Ugh, no," Steve says, he's just so relaxed and warm, moving right now is impossible. "Maybe next year," he says with a shit-eating grin.

"I'm leaving you," Billy says, pretending like he's going to drop Steve from his lap, where they're a comfortable tangle of limbs. Steve laughs and kisses Billy's cheek.

They watch the ball drop drowsily, exchange a long kiss that they know will go nowhere, and feels good for that exact reason. Steve leads them to bed, and they immediately cuddle again, Billy's back against Steve's chest, their hands tangled over Billy's heart. It's the best sleep Steve's had in ages.

-

The next morning Steve wakes up alone, but the bed is warm, and he can smell fresh coffee. He smiles, stretching his arms and thinking about last night. Can't wait to have the chance to be together with Billy again, staring at his body properly, with all the time and care it deserves.

For now, he gets up, pads into the kitchen where Billy is cooking in just his underwear, the madman. What a view, though, he has to lean in the kitchen's doorway and take his fill. 

"Aren't you worried about shrinkage," he asks, Billy turns to him with a mock disdainful look.

"Please, you've seen what I'm packing, baby, there's nothing to worry about." He walks up to Steve and kisses him thoroughly. Pats his chest when Steve just stands there, dumbly, trying to deal with this sort of kiss first thing in the morning.

"Grab me stuff from the fridge so I can cook us breakfast, will you?" Billy says, crouching to get Steve's skillet from underneath the sink.

Steve wakes up from his stupor and opens the fridge, sees eggs and can't stop himself from laughing, says, "Think fast," and throws an egg at Billy, who grabs it one-handed easily. It's fucking hot, Steve is well and truly screwed.

"I wonder how you like your eggs, huh?" Billy says, sarcastically, and then they're both laughing so hard they can't breathe.

It's the first day of a new era for Steve, Billy is like sunshine in his kitchen, singing along to George Michael and mocking Steve for even having his entire discography to begin with. Stealing sips of Steve's coffee, because he's too lazy to make his own. Utterly charming and perfect, kind of an asshole too. 

The kids arrive in two days, Steve has the whole tour planned to a tee and ready to go. He invited Max and Billy to walk around with them and knows they'll all get along like a house on fire. It's bound to come back to bite Steve in the ass, but he doesn't have a single care to spare about it.

This is going to be a good year, he can feel it.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [tumblr](https://dragoonthegreat.tumblr.com)


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